Posts tagged "identity"
Self Shelled in Pink

Self Shelled in Pink

to the students who live in two worlds

to the students who live in two worlds

  to you first-generation, first-born, first in the family, low-income students out there i feel you.
The Method to My Madness

The Method to My Madness

TW: Mental illness mention, Dissociation mention, Suicide mention
on crevices

on crevices

I.   There are many wooden things in my house, Wooden picture frames sitting atop wooden china cabinets With wooden shelves housing more wooden frames.
Yellow and You

Yellow and You

  Margo is just like her mother. Her beauty is dark and holds all of the world’s secrets. Living in the under eye bags right above her puffed cheeks, that you’d think wouldn’t flatter anybody.
Collection of Poems

Collection of Poems

  1   Our Black Magic   I am standing in line for coffee, it is early and the windows are fogged, The morning chill still rattling in my bones when I hear a voice behind me, lowered to a whisper. A girl says, in a tone of disgust- “It can’t be that bad to...
Ask Clarisse: Am I a POC?

Ask Clarisse: Am I a POC?

Dear Clarisse, I am a white Latina living in Miami, FL. All my friends are Latinx and/or black, and I completely identify with Latinx culture. I have been wondering if I am considered a POC.
The Needs of the Many?

The Needs of the Many?

    I open my eyes to sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains and roll over sleepily to check the time on my phone. 10.38. I stare at the number for a second, then my heart drops.
Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

  My life is not an easy one for just anyone to live. This is not just me grasping for attention; the same thing can be said about anyone else’s life. 
Growing into Greatness

Growing into Greatness

  Many times, I encounter the question, What would your superpower be? My answer constantly changes. However, each time, I can’t help but remember my first answer: to be invisible.
you're the anchor

you’re the anchor

  Act 1. She recited her lines like a seasoned musician would strum their guitar. A familiar song, speaking to the audience before her in a melody known only to those with the score.
Good Enough for Me

Good Enough for Me

  An apology. All I really wanted was an apology, any sort of acknowledgement that you see what you did wrong to me.